


Distraction

by LoveDrift



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, NSFW, Porn with a touch of plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wet & Messy, can't think of tags at the moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveDrift/pseuds/LoveDrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wing is all charged up and ready to go and poor Drift is about to have his nice shower interrupted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Binkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binkie/gifts).



> This is a request from Binkie. I really hope this what you wanted. I have never done a request before so I hope I did okay. :) 
> 
> Requested NSFW, Submissive Drift and dominate wing at shower sex, Drift wants to shower and suddenly Wing comes behind him and....
> 
>  
> 
> *crosses fingers*

Wing storms down the hallway back to his room, seething. For the first time in a long time he got his aft handed to him. And he doesn’t like it one bit, no he does not. Axe was right though; he really hasn’t been paying attention to his training. He’s far too distracted. 

The jet viciously stabs his code into the keypad, growling impatiently. The door opens and he stalks in, removing his Great Sword and short swords, tossing them on his berth. He is livid. For once, Wing’s calm and composed, serene, self, abandons him. 

Distracted.

He hears Axe’s voice, filled with amusement, mocking him: “Go interface with him, Winglet. Perhaps then you won’t be so _distracted_.” 

 

Distracted. 

 

And really, really charged up. 

 

The jet continues to glower at his berth when he finally takes notice of the shower running. His helm snaps up and he narrows his optics at the closed washroom door.

 

Distracted.

 

Drift. 

 

Wing’s cause of distraction. He really needs to alleviate his charge in the worst way. For once he needs to be very UN-knight like, give into his darkest desires and just frag the bolts out of someone.

 

“Perfect,” Wing purrs, his voice husky with lust. Drift is—was—a Decepticon…so he must like it rough. Decepticons like it rough, right? They must. And Drift is always so…so tough and sharp…so hard…so rough. Wing’s engines rumble impatiently with need, his spike already fully pressurized and straining within its housing. Drift can handle it, of course he can, and in truth, Wing has wanted Drift since the moment he saw the speedster. Wanted him _badly_. In every way. Wing needs to let go…to be…well, not so perfect for once.

Mind made up, his intakes catching with anticipation, Wing quietly—stealthily— enters his washroom, his spike no longer willing to remain confined, bursts forth the moment he sees Drift. Primus, the former Decepticon is beautiful like this: water and bubbles slinking down his back, caressing his luscious hips and thighs, running _between_ those very same thighs, his hands flat against the wall, helm hanging down, the hot water working its way into his neck and shoulders, little groans and soft moans of pleasure…oh yes, Drift is so obviously enjoying every aspect of his shower. 

 

Well he’s about to enjoy it a little bit more. 

 

Wing smirks and in one quick, fluid motion, he slams Drift against the wall and grinds his hips against Drift’s aft, sliding his very pressurized spike over Drift’s closed valve panel. Mmm yeah…Drift feels so goooooood against him. Wing growls against Drift’s finial, giving the finial a bite, “I want you, Drift,” Wing continues to slide his throbbing spike between Drift’s thighs, against his valve panel, “…want you so badly…open up for me…I need you,”

 

Drift grunts as he’s slammed to the stall wall. Frag. He’d heard Wing come in, no one can really sneak up on him anymore, and wondered just what the jet was gonna do. Hmpf. Figures. He really shouldn’t be surprised. It always ends up here. He just didn’t expect it from Wing. Okay, well, he’d hoped. Idiot. Such an idiot. This Primus damned city lulled him into a sense of calm making him think things were different here. How wrong he was. So be it then. He knows the drill and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Wing is charged the frag up in need of release. Drift can take it. Always has. He instantly submits and opens his valve panel and cover, his valve dry. He fills his field with complete and utter submission, making sure Wing knows he won’t fight the jet. Hopefully this way Drift can remain intact and avoid the medibay. He feels Wing purr against his neck, smiling against the cables between nips. There’s something not quite right about Wing today.

 

“You’re so beautiful, Drift,” Wing purrs against Drift’s neck as he pulls his hips back and snaps forward impaling himself inside Drift.

 

ARGH! Oh frag! Drift had no idea Redline had repaired…him so thoroughly. Slag… He squeezes his optics shut tight. Oh…oh he’d forgotten how bad it hurts when the seal breaks!! Don’t cry out, Drift….don’t cry out. And cry out he doesn’t, but he can’t help the shudder of pain that rips through his frame. Distantly he hears Wing gasp, and the next thing he knows, he’s being turned around and pinned to the wall, still impaled on Wing’s spike. 

 

_Here it comes! Here it comes! Please oh please oh please if there is a god, please don’t let him hurt me! Please! I can’t take it. I like Wing...please…please…let me have just this one thing…please…_

 

Drift forces his optics open and looks away, refusing to meet Wing’s optics. He forces himself to go limp in Wing’s hold, providing no resistance whatsoever, reinforcing that in his field.

 

Wing gasps in horror when he breaks Drift’s seal, feeling the violent shudder of pain tear through the speedsters frame. 

 

_Primus forgive me_

 

Wing quickly turns Drift around, afraid to remove his spike for fear of hurting the smaller mech further, his spark shattering when he feels Drift’s field. 

 

“Drift, oh, Drift! I am so so sorry…I didn’t know you were sealed…I was not aware Redline did such a thorough rebuild…Drift…Drift look at me…please? I won’t hurt you…I…I’m so sorry…” Wing’s engines rev in distress, his optics glowing brightly with concern. Unfortunately his spike isn’t cooperating; finding itself sheathed in such tightness is rather—STOP IT! Damn it! Listening to his spike is what got him into this in the first place. “Drift?”

 

Drift blinks in surprise, stunned. Sorry? What? “Y-You’re…sorry?” He turns his helm and looks up into those beautiful golden optics that are filled with…sorrow? Concern? For him? Huh? 

 

“Yes, Drift, I am so very sorry…this was just…,” Wing leans down and nuzzles Drift lovingly, doing his very best to ignore the fact that his spike is clearly intrigued by its sheath. “This wasn’t how I wanted our…first time to be….I…I just thought,” He gazes back into Drift’s optics, tears welling up in his own, and gently strokes Drift’s cheek. “I just…I had…Axe kicked my aft sparring…I was angry…and charged up and I thought, wrongly, that Decepticons liked it rough…sooooo…foolishly I came in here and thought I could give you something we both needed…maybe? Primus! I’m such a fool,” 

 

Drift half laughs, half sobs, leaning into Wing’s gentle rubs to his cheek. Wing got his aft kicked! Ha! Oh that’s priceless! “You— _You_ , got your aft kicked. By Axe,” He smiles as Wing nods, the jets face flushing with embarrassment. “I see…well, I GET that.” Slagging _Pit_ does he get that! “And…I can help you out if you still want to…uh…to burn that off. I can take it, Wing. If you need to go hard and fast, I can handle it,” He’s willing to bet if he tells Wing just how much he doesn’t like it hard and fast, and that he NEVER gets off on interfacing, that Wing isn’t going to want to do it. Not that that’s bad, exactly, but he does honestly understand, and a grumpy, agitated jet means that life will be miserable and he really doesn’t want that. So he’ll, uh, take one for the team and tell Wing after…or may not at all. Hm…

 

Wing stares at Drift in surprise. “What? Drift…Drift no…” Drift can’t be serious…can he? Wing holds in a groan as his spike throbs insistently inside Drift’s valve. “I can’t. I already hurt you. This is behavior unbefitting a knight. You shouldn’t have to handle it, Drift, and I do not want to hurt you. At all.”

 

Drift rolls his optics and deliberately squeezes his valve, the calipers clamping down tight on Wing’s thick length. “I’m fine, Wing. I have had WAY worse, trust me,” He smirks and lifts his right leg up around Wing’s hip and circles his own hips. “Stop being such a tight aft and frag me already! You need to overload, Wing. Trust me. I know these things,” Drift smirks and takes Wing’s lower lip into his mouth and sucks hard, letting his mind wander down a path that will surely get him to lubricate, namely Wing atop him, riding his spike, the jets wings unfolded and fluttering, screaming his name in pleasure. Yeah…that does it just nicely…

 

And that’s all it took for the last of Wing’s resolve to crumble. The jet hungrily devours Drift’s mouth in a passionate kiss, his field filling with sorry/so sorry/I won’t hurt you/trust me. Wing gently pulls out enough to let the water lube his spike a bit before gently slamming back into that tight, hot valve. Primus Drift is tight! Wing growls and picks Drift up, using the wall to help hold the speedster in place as he grabs Drift’s left leg and wraps it around him. 

“Ooooh, Drift…mmm…so…ah!” Wing pulls his hips back and drives up into Drift, the speedsters back sliding up against the wall with every upward thrust. “So tight …mmm….nghn…D-Drift…You…beau—UHN—tiful!”

 

“Yes! That’s it, Wing! Uhn! Harder! Harder!” Drift smiles to himself as Wing snarls and drives into him. Yeah, that was pretty lame dirty talk. Worked though! He uses some of his best tricks learned over a lifetime of selling his frame. Won’t be long now…And there we go.

 

Wing screams out Drift’s name as he overloads hard, his spike throbbing and pumping copious amounts of transfluid into Drift’s valve. Smirking, Wing licks a sensual trail up Drift’s finial to suckle the tip, delighting in the startled gasp and wanton moan pulled from the speedster.

 

Now the fun starts.

 

Wing is going to blow Drift’s mind.

 

Wing carefully slides out of Drift, lowering him to his pedes, transfluid and lubricant trickling out in his wake, and gracefully drops to his knees. 

 

Drift sighs in relief when Wing overloads, gasping at the suckle to his finial. Oh! Ah! Oh wow…Did he just moan? “Well, now I’ll—” Is Wing? “—er, Wing…? What are you doing?” For the life of him, Drift cannot possibly understand why Wing is kneeling in front of him. He’s so confused. A deep blush makes it way to his cheeks and finials when Wing looks up at him and smiles. “Wing?”

 

“Shhh…it’s all okay, Drift. Now, open up,”

 

“B-But…but I am open…” And dripping and dirty and…and this isn’t right…what is Wing _doing_?

 

Primus, Drift is adorable. This is really going to be fun. “No, silly, your other one. I’ll return to your valve soon enough, sweetspark,” Wing purrs.

 

Drift’s finials turn bright red at the instruction and pet name. He looks down at Wing in confused wonder and opens his spike panel, his spike still tucked in his housing.

A pang of sorrow constricts Wing’s spark when he realizes Drift isn’t aroused at all. He continues to hold Drift’s gaze, the confusion adorable and very worrisome at the same time. Wing makes a mental note to talk with Drift later, for if he strays down that path now, he won’t dare have the nerve to show Drift true pleasure. “So beautiful you are, Drift,” His wings give a gentle flutter as he slowly traces the outside of Drift’s spike housing with his glossa before circling inside and around Drift’s spike.

Drift groans and gasps, slumping back against the wall, his optics locked on the jets helm, watching as the water slides over Wing’s wings. Those perfect, beautiful wings… What is Wing doing? Is that…? Oh! That’s his mouth! And…oh that…that’s his glossaaaaaaahhhh…“Oooooh…oh, Wing…that…that feels…mmm…g-good…”

Wing purrs and unfolds his wings as he swirls his glossa around the tip of Drifts spike, absolutely delighting in Drift’s reactions.

 

Drift gasps as the objects of his desire are unfolded, and his spike instantly pressurizes.

 

Right into the jet’s mouth.

 

And…and…oh…

 

_Oooooooh…_

 

Wing is _swallowing_ his entire spike!

 

“Wing! Oh, Primus! Oh that, uhn…nghn…Wing…” Drift’s helm thunks back against the wall and a low, long groan fills the washroom. “That feels…..oh frag…your mouth…oh…oh frag…Wing…that…oh frag…” Oh frag it feels so good! No one has ever sucked his spike before. And now he knows why he spent so much time on his knees. Cause this feels AMAZING! The urge to move his hips into that warm softness around him is overpowering, but he doesn’t want to do that to Wing. That’s just rude. Oh…oh wow! Wing is bobbing his helm back and forth! And…and… “Ooooooh…oh yes…oh, Wiiiiiiiiiiing…” Wing’s glossa is stroking his spike at the same time! Drift opens optics he didn’t even remember closing and looks down at Wing, his captor, his knight, on his knees, mouth around—that’s it! Drift roars and growls out the jets name, his hands slapping the wall behind him, hips bucking forward, as he overloads, his transfluid exploding down Wing’s throat, and be damned if that jet isn’t sucking him all the harder for it. 

 

Wing purrs lustfully as he releases Drift’s spike, making sure to lick it clean. He looks up at Drift and smiles, licking his lips. Well, Drift is even more beautiful after he overloads. Good thing Wing isn’t done just yet. “I assume that was to your liking?” He giggles softly at the adorable little nod from Drift. “Good. Now,” The jet slowly rises to his pedes, capturing the speedster’s waist on his way up, “if you please,” Mmmm…that belly…Drift’s belly is so incredibly sexy. Wing is momentarily distracted, more like entranced, as he caresses Drift’s belly. “…so sexy, Drift…” Coming to his senses with a groan of appreciation, he squeezes the former Decepticon’s slender waist, guides him to the stall’s bench and gently pushes him down. “There,” Wing trills with delight, “perfect!” He then reaches over, just to the right of Drift and switches the shower stream to the handheld unit with a smirk. 

 

Drift can only stare at Wing in confusion, for he has no idea what the frag is going on. Not that he is complaining, mind you. He intakes sharply and gasps as Wing caresses his very sensitive belly. That…what that jet is doing…is…that…that feels sooooo good. His knees are weak, his thighs trembling. Oh Primus how does that feel so good? How will he ever keep upright if Wing keeps doing tha—Oh! His calves bump the bench seat and he allows Wing to guide him down. Well, that…that’s better…but what is that silly jet doing now? Drift attempts to ask Wing, but all he manages is a tiny squeak. Why is Wing kneeling? Canting his helm, Drift watches Wing take hold of his knees and gently part them. What? “W-Wing? I…I…” 

 

_I’m sore. Please don’t hurt me…_

 

Wing smiles sweetly up at Drift and settles between the speedster’s quivering thighs. He rubs Drift’s beautiful thighs, his thumbs rubbing little circles just under Drift’s spike and just above the ex-Decepticon’s external node. “I won’t hurt you, Drift. I promise. I’m going to make you feel really good,”

 

Drift’s reply is a high pitched gasp and a very loud rev of his engine. Wing’s mouth is…is so…oooooh…oh it’s so close to his… He whines. He can’t help it. No one. NO ONE has ever had their mouth anywhere near his valve. Just like no one has ever sucked his spike before. No one has ever been on their knees before Drift either, and now Wing has been down on his knees twice! Drift hears himself whine again and can’t take his optics off of Wing.

 

Wing purrs and takes a nice long lick along one side of Drift’s valve and then the other side; not quite touching the lip, but close enough. He follows that up with a gentle lick around the speedster’s external node and then looks up at Drift to make sure he is alright. 

 

Oh yes. Drift is just fine, if that look of surprised pleasure, dropped jaw, and tiny bit of drool is anything to go by. 

 

“That’s it my sweetspark, relax and enjoy. And if at any time you want me to stop—“

 

“NO! I…uh…” Drift’s finials darken to crimson, his reply full of static. “P-Please…I…I don’t want you to…t-to stop,” Not now. Not ever…

 

Wing trills happily, his wings fluttering, pride filling his field along with love, that he is able to please his sexy little speedster. “Good. Very good, sweetspark,” With an almost predatory grin and a lick of his lips, Wing returns to that perfect little valve. He runs his glossa between the folds slowly up to Drift’s external node and then swirls his glossa around the nub before gently suckling it into his mouth.

 

“Ah! Ah! Ooooooh…oh…oh, Wiiiiiiiinnnnng…” Drift gasps and moans, his helm thunking back against the wall, thighs spreading further apart, his optics dimming with pleasure before closing, his hands going from clenched fists just under his chin to hanging limply at his sides. This feels incredible…unbelievably incredible. Never in his life did he think his valve could ever be a source of pleasure. Never. Not once—“Oh frag! AH! AH! Uhn…mngh…ooooo…oh yeeeeeees…” Drift’s fans kick on right to high and his engine slams to redline. Wing is sucking…sucking…on…HE’S SUCKING ON MY NODE! AND IT FEELS… _DELICIOUS_. Drift can’t help but rock his hips into Wing’s mouth. “Oh frag, Wing…oh…oh yeah…” Slag it feels good…soooo good…better than anything else in the whole world! Oh frag…oh please…please… “…don’t s-stop…”

 

Wing hums in appreciation at the delectable little gasps and throaty whimpers of pleasure he pulls from Drift. The jet knew the minute he started to suck the speedster’s external node, and tasted his warm lubricant, that Drift was enjoying himself. And oh how hot does Drift sound?! He could listen to Drift all day long! Wing moans into Drift’s valve and laves his glossa between the soft folds, giving each one a little suckle before going back to that perfect little node, if for no reason other than to continue to hear Drift’s wanton moans and cries of bliss. Wing slides his hands up Drift’s thighs to his hips and gently holds the speedster, letting Drift know he can grind into Wing’s face as hard as he wants. The jet’s spike is fully pressurized again and throbbing from the beautiful display before him, and from a quick glance at Drift, the speedster’s spike is too. 

 

Wing smiles when Drift takes the hint and gently starts to grind a bit more into his face. And of course the Knight replies in kind. He swirls his glossa around Drift’s node and hungrily sucks, letting his glossa dip into the dripping heat every so often. As much as Wing wants to plunge his glossa inside, he won’t. Not just yet. Very stealthily he uses the tip of his wing to tip the handheld shower nozzle off its holder while releasing his hand from Drift’s hip to catch it as it falls. Perfect. 

 

Drift’s hands are now crushing the sides of the bench as he pumps, rocks, and grinds his valve into Wing’s face. Damn it feels good. Wait, good isn’t even the right word for something this…this…amazing…wonderful… “…uhn…mmm…oh yes…yes please…oh yes…oh frag…don’t stop…mmm…mmm…oh…oh frag, Wing…” He writhes and whimpers, beside himself with ecstasy. It’s all so wet and sticky and…perfect…and…and he doesn’t want it to end!

 

Primus Drift is gorgeous like this! Wing is too damn close to overloading just from watching Drift. And hearing his name off those beautiful lips is almost enough to tip the jet over the edge.

Not yet…not yet… 

Wing turns on the sprayer and adjusts it to a concentrated stream, not too powerful, but just enough. His wings tremble in anticipation of burying his glossa deep into that perfect wet heat; yes, Drift is really lubricated now and the speedster tastes divine. Wing reluctantly releases Drift’s external node to suckle the supple folds of his valve. When he hears Drift whine his displeasure, Wing holds the sprayer so that the stream of water hits his node. 

 

“OH! AH! WING!” Drift’s hips buck and his optics snap open, white with intense pleasure.

 

Now! Wing buries his glossa inside Drift’s soaking valve. His wings stiffen and open to their full span, and he growls into the speedster’s clenching valve. _Mmmm…that’s it, sweetspark, work those hips for me_. Wing isn’t going to last. Not with the way Drift is moaning, whimpering, and writhing against him. He curls his glossa against a cluster of nodes at the top of Drift’s valve while directing the stream from the handheld in a circular motion on Drift’s node, then devours the entirety of Drift’s valve. 

 

Drift screams Wing’s name, his valve calipers squeezing that wonderful glossa inside him, as his overload slams into him. Transfluid explodes from his spike in a perfect arc of silver. He arches his back in a beautiful, perfect bow, before collapsing back down, almost curling around Wing, his intakes and vents heaving. Steam billows off his scorching frame, his fans, despite being designed to handle this amount of heat, strain to cool him. His engine ticks, his oil boiling, the rush of coolant loud as it surfs through his system. 

 

And he loves every minute of it, yes he does.

 

The moment Drift overloads, Wing follows right along with him, his own spike spurting his transfluid onto the bottom of the bench. He eagerly drinks the flood of lubricant, licking Drift clean before he pulls back smiling. His wings tuck neatly back in place and he nuzzles Drift, folding his arms around the speedsters trembling form. Wing smiles and kisses Drift’s helm before releasing him. He gently sprays Drift off, returning the handheld to its holder and turning off the shower when he’s done. Wing stands above Drift and smiles lovingly down at his slumped form. Beautiful. 

 

Drift blushes as Wing cleans him off, intakes still heaving, his engine still ticking as he cools, unable to anything more than stay slumped against the wall. That was…wow…just…

 

Wing grins and gently slides his arms under Drift’s legs and back, and scoops him up, kissing Drift’s forehelm as carries his sleepy speedster to the berth.

 

Drift blushes and smiles bashfully up at Wing as he is picked up and kissed. He looks at the knight in confusion as he is carried into the berthroom. “But I’m wet…”

 

“And I am going to dry you off, my silly little speedster,” Wing trills happily and gently sets Drift down on his berth, before grabbing a towel from the shelf, and drying him off. 

 

Drift watches sleepily as Wing dries him off and smiles. “Thank you,”

 

Wing looks up, confused. “For what?”

 

“For this…for…for feeling bad that you hurt me…for making me feel good. Really good…for doing things no one has ever done to me…” Drift flushes with embarrassment, his intakes hitching, tears welling up in his optics.

 

Wing’s spark clenches and rises up in his throat. “Oh, Drift…I’m so sorry I hurt you…” He shakes his helm. “It’s not okay that I hurt you…” He looks at his hands and twists the towel, thinking over Drift’s words. The jets optics fill with tears. “You’ve been hurt like…like that a lot, haven’t you?” He looks over at Drift, whose answer is to suck his lower lip into his mouth and look away. “Drift…” Wing pulls Drift into his arms, curling around the speedster and hugging him tight. “Never again. I promise you.”

 

Drift chokes back a sob and curls into Wing, clinging to him tightly, his entire world consisting of nothing but Wing: his scent, his warmth, the hum of his engines; and for the first time in a very long time, Drift feels safe. 

 

Then a thought occurs to him.

 

“’Never again’ as in not hurting, right? The other stuff though…that can happen again, right?” A cheeky little grin looks up at Wing.

 

Wing smiles, his spark filling with warmth, and kisses Drift’s forehelm. “That stuff can happen as much as your beautiful spark desires, Drift.”


End file.
